


Alternative Transport

by unofficialsherlockian



Series: Everything Else is Transport [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Episode: The Abominable Bride, Translock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-01-07
Packaged: 2018-05-12 07:44:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5658217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unofficialsherlockian/pseuds/unofficialsherlockian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alternatively...</p><p>Sherlock finds his place in a Victorian world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alternative Transport

Alternatively, 1881-

Flogging the corpse wasn't the most engaging experiment Holmes would have chosen to occupy his time with, but he felt he needed the physical exertion over the mental at the moment. The hemoglobin experiment would have to wait for another day. Anyways, bruising after death was a worthy cause, and beating the corpse a viable way to take out his frustrations.

"I hope we aren't...interrupting."

An educated voice from behind him, with Stamford, who'd called to him not moments ago. Stamford knew to wait. This other man, however... Holmes turned, looked over the man quickly, "You've been in Afghanistan, I perceive." He looked away to hide his grin at the shorter man's face.

"Doctor Watson, Mr Sherlock-" Stamford trailed off as Holmes threw his walking stick without looking, smiling to himself slightly as this Doctor Watson caught it. He turned to Watson.

"Excellent reflexes." Allowed himself a grin, but only a brief one. "You'll do."

He'd been given to the thought that if he was impressive and odd in every other way, no one would notice everything else he was trying to hide. He must not know, Holmes told himself, as he invited this Watson to look at the lodgings with him, having every confidence that Stamford had indeed found him a man to go halves with. He will not know.

 

Later there were cases, dozens of them. Starting with what Watson coined "A Study in Scarlet" (a permanent reminder to Holmes to never be so poetic when talking in a cab, else Watson'll steal it for a story title); Watson met Lestrade, Lestrade was pleased on the whole (or seemed so) and a partnership in crime solving came about between the two of them.

There were others, many others. "Speckled Band", "A Scandal in Bohemia"... ah the woman, a formidable foe. If he's had interest in women...and women able to him interest in him without discovering his crimes, he might have wanted her. But he was here to be alone, to be a crime solving machine, for every reason, not just what he was.

there was "The Final Problem" in which he "defeated" Moriarty, that nemesis that still haunted most of his thoughts and movements. The threats the professor had made were not little and as a result, Holmes always felt on his toes.

And then of course, "The Sign of Four", in which Watson had met Ms Mary Morstan, in which Watson had found his wife...

....A wife Watson was now away from, and had been for quite some time.

Dismembered country squires had taken precedence over Holmes' illness and as a result, he and Watson had a long and interesting case in the country side, a place that Holmes otherwise would have avoided. It had been nice to be away with someone he was close with, but now they were back, traversing by carriage through the herds and seas of people, the streets of London teeming with them for the season. 

Holmes hissed at Watson as the man made them stop to chat with the Strand seller, asking about the "Blue Carbuncle", oh there was a case. Holmes allowed himself to be glad for Watson and the story's success there; he afterall had been rather proud of the outcome. Not often did cases as such occur. And it was a good story for holiday cheer.

"Is _he_ in there?" Holmes heard and he grimaced. He'd never wanted fame from being a detective.

"Are you quite done, celebrity author?" He asked, jabbing Watson with his walking stick.

They were moving again, Watson turning to Holmes, and they both heard "Merry Christmas Mr Holmes!"; Watson went red in the ears and avoided Holmes' eye contact, Holmes scowled. 

"It's not my fault you're so popular you know," Watson said at length.

"Yes it is." Holmes didn't look towards Watson, merely out the window. He wan't about to play up his own merits for the sake of downplaying his friend's. He felt Watson's gaze upon him until they pulled up onto Baker Street. "Anyways, home again."

"Yes." Watson smiled. "Good to be back."

Watson still didn't know Holmes' secrets. He knew some of the more intimate details of Holmes' life and yet Holmes tried to keep private what he could from his friend. His feelings, his wants, why he did what he did. He trusted Watson immensely and yet some things were too much for him to lay before his friend. And so here they were, in what seemed to them a comfortable and honest relationship, and yet Holmes wanted more from it, which they could not have.

"Well, better get in then, " he said, sliding out of the cab. He flashed a grin to Watson and up they went, to 221b.

**Author's Note:**

> Just something to play with in my "Just Transport" fic au.  
> Leaving it here as "finished" in favor of working on other things.  
> Thanks for reading!


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